Eying Alice
by MindBottled
Summary: The first time he struck the fiend's eye, it was to help Alice escape. When he struck again, it was to gain the advantage in battle and end the wretch's life. But the third time, he missed.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything from Alice In Wonderland. Those rights belong to Lewis Carol and Tim Burton.

**Author's Note:** This was a random one-shot idea, inspired by the many times that Tarrant attacks the Knave's eye.

**Pairing: **Mad Hatter(Tarrant Hightopp)/Alice

* * *

**Strike I: **

Alice, oh his darling little Alice. Or rather, his darling _large _Alice, she had the worst knack for becoming too tall or far too small. Tarrant had to fight back a small fit of giggles as the curious little thought popped into his head.

And here she was, trying to rescue him! But he was quick to admonish her for that silly idea. Everyone knew that the vorpal sword was as frail and as useless as glass against anything but the Jabberwocky.

Things had been going along swimmingly in fact, he was certain he saw her muchness slowly returning with every glance and touch she sent him, but then _he _ruined it. The bloody, slurvish Knave of Hearts marched in as only a deviant can and not in the least bit the pleasant sort which Tarrant aligned himself with.

And the fiend dared to say that Alice, the sweet and pleasant girl with a madness most becoming of a woman her age, was to be tried for unlawful seduction? Even if Alice did not need his distractions to help her escape, he was more than willing to give them anyway. Had he a knife, it would be certain that no such words would dare escape from that fiendish Knave's lips again.

As it was, he had little but rolls of fabric and an oversized mannequin which posed very little threat to the brute's sword. But as he grew closer to him, a wicked grin escaped upon Tarrant's lips, hidden from the onlookers view by the useless metal dummy that served as his means of protection.

For you see, he had found the Knave 's weakness. The eye, which had undoubtedly been used to torment sweet Alice with the fiend's lecherous gaze, would prove a most impressive target. As Alice ran, he attacked with forceful accuracy using various perfumes found on the desk that he had been so rudely thrown against during the fiend's attack, in order to blind the pig's line of vision. The perfume did little to hinder the man from following Alice, save for making his eye become frightfully bloodshot.

Still, Tarrant felt fully satisfied as the guards drug him away to his prison. A gentleman maims during his first strike, and kills upon his second. And what was Tarrant Hightopp, if not an utmost gentleman?

**Strike II: **

Unlike the others, he could not sit by and watch Alice be killed by that despicable monster. Summoning all the strength that his maddened heart could give him, he chased after the bizarre couple and plunged his sword deep into the Jabberwocky's tail, narrowly avoiding the creature's pained attack aimed at himself. Though his sword left but a trifling wound to the manxome foe, it gave Alice more than enough time to flee.

The sudden onslaught of a third party attack upon the destined couple, however, caused the dormant battalions to awaken in a murderous rage eager to appease their own side with blood. As Tarrant recovered the catalyst for the catastrophic event unfolding, his eyes sought that of his own rival.

Though his heart told him that he only caused such a string of events to occur in order to save his beloved Alice, his mind argued that it was so he could deal out his own vengeance to the man that dare try and sully her reputation. As he neared him, weapon raised and top hat tossed to the ground in lieu of challenge, he felt the familiar claws of madness grip him and it was most certainly not the sort that had saved Alice.

It was the madness he tried to hide from the world, the madness that reason could do little to plead with. The madness that demanded death for compensation as if to appease an angry spirit and would not stop unless blood was shed. The clashing of steel against steel did little to sway his dark thoughts, until he realized that the Knave was gaining the upper hand. This simply wouldn't do, he could never be defeated by such a loathsome creature.

Whatever would dear Alice think of him, her Hatter, being defeated in a battle that was to avenge her honor? A small rippling of sanity graced his features, which went completely unnoticed by his foe. His eye caught sight of his pin cushion ring, a lovely heirloom of his mother's that he wore at all times, for a queen's hatter should never be without pins and needles for tacking fabric as it doesn't tack itself you know.

A grin from unspoken laughter or perhaps it was his usual madness, he could never tell for certain, graced his features as he stabbed the Knave with one of the many pin needles. The shock from both his sudden temporary blindness and pain, caused Stayne to stumble to the ground and Tarrant was more than willing to take this opportunity to deal his final strike, one that would surely end the wretch's life.

His conscious tried desperately to outweigh his madness, as his sword barely dangled over the chest of his fallen foe. On one hand, if he killed this slurvish Knave, he would successfully have avenged Alice's honor. On the other hand, what would Alice think of him if he murdered a man before her very eyes?

It was at this precise moment that sweet and innocent Alice did the impossible: She had slain the Jabberwocky. Her thundering cry of victory awoke the gentleness within him, causing the dark thoughts that plagued his mind to retreat to their own recesses once more. He gazed with horror at the sword before him before dropping it to the ground with a resounding clatter, his eyes slowly reverting from a murderous yellow to their own peculiar shade of green.

Honor or no honor, Alice could never love him if he killed even it was for her, he realized.

**Strike III:**

Tarrant strode to Mirana's side as she sentenced the fallen Red queen, her usual airy demeanor now weighed down with an icy vengeance. For no one knew better than himself that as kind-hearted as the inhabitants of Underland may seem, years of war could scar even the kindest heart turning it into nothing more than hallow shell with a gentle the guards were pulling the Bl'oody Beg 'Ead away he noticed the Knave, that wretched, slurvish scoundrel, was pleading for forgiveness to the noble White queen.

He drew closer to Mirana intent on hearing the fiend's own dose of justice. If he could not deliver the final blow, perhaps an eloquent punishment would be a suitable replacement. As it was, the Knave was now going to suffer through his own personal version of hell: To be chained to Iracebeth for the rest of his days never being spoken to unless it was that of his companion, whose voice made the jubjub bird's squawk seem almost melodious. Ilosovic Stayne realized just this, and reached into his robes for a hidden dagger that might end the fallen royal's life.

Tarrant felt the familiar tug of insanity tint his eyes as he quickly tossed a pin needle through the air with what the onlookers thought to be deadly accuracy, hitting the Knave squarely in the hand. As the knife fell to the ground, the B'loody Beg 'Ead was saved, both of the shackled fiends doomed to serving out their sentence in the Outlands with only one another as company for the rest of their living days.

Unbeknownst to the crowd though, his needle missed it's intended target which happened to be a particular ebony sphere currently filled with misery and hatred as it was drug further and further away. However, his droopy bow and disposition perked up upon seeing Alice smiling at him, her bright eyes shining at him through the masses.

Though the Knave may still have his sight, Tarrant realized that he did not ever need to avenge Alice. All he ever needed was her love.


End file.
